Sunset ^beta

The point is, Logan does have a point, doesn´t he?

Rory doesn´t want him to have a point. She wants to be angry. She IS angry.
But if Logan didn´t cheat… She has to forgive him. Doesn´t she? She does not feel ready to forgive him.

Five minutes ago, she was ready to never see him again; to move back in with Paris, let bygones be bygones, to swear off boys altogether. But Paris is getting back with Doyle too, isn´t she.

She isn´t. Because it seems Paris conversation/shouting match with Doyle has taken the worst turn imaginable and now Paris voice rings loud through the doorway, shouting: “Rory? Your hot chick is Rory?”

Which means that now Doyle is on the defensive, swearing “Nothing happened, I only told you to make you jealous.” Admitting which – beginner mistake.

“Make me jealous!? Because Rory is so much better than me, is that it? Because who would date me if they could get with Rory? Is that what you are trying to say?”

Rory winces. She should have left with Logan right away. Should not have stuck around to hear herself becoming a point of contention in her friend´s relationship troubles.

And it gets worse, of course it gets worse, because that laugh of Doyle´s is not a nice laugh.
“You´re one to talk.” He tells Paris. “Acting like YOU have any right to get jealous over Rory.”

“What do you mean?” Paris voice is a threat. Logan´s eyes on Rory are an accusation.

“I mean” Doyle says, and Rory wants to run, because she does not want to hear what Doyle is going to say. (She doesn´t run and she hears him just fine.)

“I mean that if anything, I am the one who´s got a right to be jealous, with how fucking in love with Rory YOU are.” The silence lasts only a moment, but it is deafening, nonetheless.
“I told you I was over that.” Growls Paris. And that is a confirmation isn´t it. Rory´s head is ringing.

“You did.” Doyle allows, but continues “I don´t believe you, however. Not with how you are acting.
“And you know what Paris? I´m tired - Of playing second fiddle to Rory. Always the second best. I thought I´d be fine with it. Turns out I am not: It´s over.”

When Doyle storms out the apartment Rory barely has time to jump out of his way.
In his wake he leaves silence, and a tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“Are you coming?” Logan asks her, eventually.
Which, she probably should go. Her quarrel with Logan is moot, isn´t it. And the whole situation with Paris and Doyle… well.

There is a sniffle from behind the door. Barely audible, but Rory hears it.
Is Paris crying? Rory probably remembers every instance Paris has cried over the last five years. Has comforted her for the majority of them, even.

“I can´t.” she tells Logan “Paris needs me.”

Because Paris does. She is one of Rory´s best friends in the world. The best friend, after Lane. And if she has to choose between Paris who needs her, and Logan, who she is still mad at -even if she shouldn´t be- well, it´s not a choice at all, is it.

Logan, it seems, does not agree. “Really?” he asks. “After all that, you wanna stay with Paris? You´re choosing her?”

“I´m staying.” Rory agrees, “Yes.” She lifts her chin, bracing for Logan to ring in the next round.

He looks at her then, just looks. “Goddammit ace.” He mutters. Turns to the stairway. Hesitates.

“Goodnight Logan.” She tells him. “I´ll call you.”

“How good are the chances of you not having heard any of that?” Paris asks when Rory eventually slinks back into the living room.

Rory shrugs. “About zero.”

“Figured.” A sigh. “You´re staying anyway?” she asks, faux-confrontational.

Rory nods. Tells her “Yep.”

“Despite?” Paris makes a vague gesture.

“You´re my friend.” Rory tells her. “We´ve been through worse.”
Which makes Paris bark out a morose laugh.

“Anyways. I´m tired.” Rory decides. “We can worry about everything else later; right now, I just want to sleep.” She turns to Paris, who is still visibly on edge but slowly deflating.
“You said I could take the bed?”

Paris, angel that she is, does let Rory sleep in her bed. However, because she is also secretly evil, she kicks her awake when it´s barely past seven.

At least she has coffee - so maybe there is some kindness left in the world after all.

“Coffee…” moans Rory making grabby hands for the two cups Paris is holding, the promise of strong dark salvation, just outside of her reach.

“We need to talk.” Paris proclaims. As whatever Paris proclaims is generally a decided matter Rory struggles her way into an upright sitting position to talk.

“About what?” She asks; gratefully receiving the coffee-shaped gift from heaven that Paris hands her.

“About yesterday.”

Paris lets herself slump onto the edge off the bed next to Rory. Somehow, she looks petulant. Paris takes a sip of her own coffee, and promptly proceeds to make a face when she inevitably burns her tongue.
“About my big stupid coming out moment.”

Right. That. “So… Doyle was right?” Rory asks, carefully disinterested.
Paris is tense like a live wire beside her. So, they ARE having this conversation now – Rory would have been happy to ignore the whole matter…

Who is she lying to, Rory is way too curious for her own good, she´d probably wake sleeping dogs with a base-drum. But this is about Paris. Who is even more chronically unable to let things lie and who is now mumbling that Doyle maybe, partially, had had a point.

“So, are you… in love with me?” Rory asks, because that´s the elephant in the room, isn´t it.
It´s the elephant and the sleeping dog and also probably every other member of Rory´s mental menagerie.

“NO.” Paris denies, not allowing Rory to dwell on the metaphor. “No.” she repeats. “I mean, I used to be?” Here she turns awkward. Which is an odd look on Paris, and not one Rory expects to get used to. “Kind of? Back in High school, I mean. You´re my best friend.”

“You´re my best friend too, Paris-” Rory smiles, “apart from Lane, obviously.”

“Obviously.” This earns her one of Paris´ patented eyerolls. “Anyway. Most lesbians – or well – bisexual women crush on their best friends at some point… It was only to be expected.”

“And you are…?” Rory probes, because last night was not Paris´ big stupid coming out moment, not really. This is.

“Yep.” She confirms. “Does that upset you?”

Does Paris being queer upset Rory? “Not really.” She tells her, because it is true. “I mean it´s certainly a surprise…” To which Paris offers some unimpressed jazz-hands, and Rory laughs.

They´re going to be all right, aren´t they. Nothing has changed, really.

“So, are you back with Huntzberger?” asks Paris, letting the moment of levity pass by.

Rory shrugs. “I don´t know.”
A thought strikes her. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” Paris denies, then admits “maybe a little.” And Paris DID never like Logan, Rory had always known this. Huh.

“For what it´s worth, I don´t think I´d want to live with him right now.” She offers. “I´m still pretty pissed at him.” (And rightfully so, says Paris expression, only Paris is biased as Rory now knows.)

“You said I could stay-” she asks Paris instead. “Can I stay?”

“Yeah, you can stay.” Paris smiles, “as long as you´re fine with the whole sapphic revelations” she adds.

“As I said.” Rory says, bumping their shoulders together “We´ve been through worse. Remember the Francie disaster?”

“God that was awful.” Paris agrees with a snort.

“See!” Rory beams. “We´ll be fine, Paris – trust me.”

“So, about repainting the apartment-“ says Rory´s lesbian(?) bisexual(?) best friend who may or may not be in love with her.

They are currently having breakfast in the university cafeteria, since their own fridge is once again woefully empty. Paris last attempt at a non-Rory roommate it seems had taken all of their groceries with her, when she had inevitably fled for the hills.

“I´m in.” Rory tells Paris, because of course she is – the flat is a dump. “I mean, of course I´m still plenty busy with catching up with my courses, plus I´ve got the Yale Daily News to take care of, but as long as I get my old room back… I really want to do this with you. I´ll make time.”

Paris smiles. “Good.” Then, because she is Paris: “How do you feel about white?”

“For the walls?”

“No, for the limousine. – Of course, for the walls!
“I mean, personally, I think it´s boring. But it´s also the least likely to get us in trouble with the landlord, and I can´t really afford to lose our deposit right now.”

“Don´t worry about the deposit.” Rory tells her. “My dad just came into some money, and he is chomping at the bit to spend it on me. And white sucks.”

“Ah.” Paris allows “The joys of nepotism.”

“Indeed.” Rory grins, offering her third cup of coffee today for a toast “I´ll drink to that.”
Paris bumps her OJ against it, muttering “Cheers.”

“I can get us color swatches too.” Rory offers, after a good sip of coffee. “My mom and Luke redid the house earlier this year – they´ve got plenty still lying around. I just have to drop by to pick them up.”

“Sounds good.” Paris agrees, now back to bossy. “Schedule that for this weekend, would you?”

Rory grins, fondly “Aye aye, ma´am.”

“Let me see if I got this right:” Asks Lorelai Gilmore; mother of the century but also a horrible traitor who is questioning Rory´s judgment (like she has any room to judge!)
“You´re not living with Logan anymore, but you´ve not broken up with him either?”

“Yes.” Rory nods, patiently ignoring Michel, whose workflow over at the front desk has grown suspiciously slow for someone who is ostensibly not EAVESDROPPING.

“And you and Paris are repainting the apartment?”
“Yes.” Rory confirms that, too.

“What is Doyle´s opinion on all this?” her mom asks.

Oh. “Nothing. I mean, him and Paris have broken up.”

“Huh. I´m sorry to hear that. Poor Paris, I quite liked him.”
Rory shrugs. With Paris´ recent revelations, it was probably only a matter of time.

“Can I ask why.” She inquires, because Lorelai Gilmore is a busybody who has passed all of her worst traits on to Rory.

“It´s complicated.” Rory offers. Once upon a time, she used to tell her mom everything. But this is Paris secret, not hers – so: “It´s complicated. Also kinda private.”

Of course, life in Rory and Paris´s boyfriend-free bubble can only last for so long, and since Rory has not broken up with Logan she can hardly be surprised when before long, he drops by.

Which does not make the whole matter any more pleasant.

“No, Logan.” She argues. “I´m still mad at you!”

“But you admitted I didn´t cheat on you.” He shoots back. Which she did, what means that she has to own it, now.

“Yes.” She allows. “From where you are concerned, you did not cheat on me. But you still let me walk into that room, to be humiliated, without so much as a warning. So, pardon me if I need some time to get over all that.”

“You had time.” He complains “You´ve almost had a whole week!”

“And I am still fucking angry. So no, I don´t think that I´ll want to catch dinner tonight. Sorry.” She tells him, then adds for the sake of full disclosure “Paris and I already have plans anyway.”

A mistake, how could it be anything but: “So, you´re moving back in with Paris. Really?” he accuses.

Oh, how Rory does not feel like defending herself. “Yes, yes I am.” She bites back, anyway.
“And we are repainting the apartment. Actually, we´re going out to buy paint; tonight. So I´m busy.”

“And you´ve forgotten all about the editorship? About her kicking you out? Just like that.”

“She apologized. I apologized. It´s different.” And it is different. Because it´s Paris.

“Goddamn it, you´re a hypocrite. Of course, it is different!” Logan all but shouts.
“Say: Are you in love with her, is that it? Are you two dating? Because if one of my friends came on to me like that, I´d be getting space. Not repainting the damn apartment!”

“She didn´t come on to me!” Rory defends. Logan scoffs.

“She´s in love with you! – that´s basically the same thing.”

“Like what you did and cheating are basically the same thing?” She asks, good and angry now.

He throws his hands. “I did not cheat on you Rory! Are you going to drop it?”

She crosses her arms. “If you stop being an ass about Paris-”

“Damnit, Ace…” He looks desperate, and Rory feels sorry for him, she does!
But she is tired of arguing, and right now, Rory wants him gone more than anything else.

She shakes her head. “I´ll see you around Logan.”
She leaves.

“I fought with Logan today.”

It´s not impressive as far as conversation starters go, but they are walking through shelves upon shelves of paint buckets in varying shades of dismal greige and the silence IS starting to stretch. So: Conversation starters.

“Sorry to hear that.” Paris tells her. She almost sounds genuine, too.

“Doesn´t matter.” Rory admits. “He was being a dick.”

“Mmh.”

“Mmh what?” she asks, because Paris doesn´t ´Mmh´ - not without any ulterior thoughts.

Paris shrugs, turning a corner towards the buckets with actual color´s in them.
“You could always dump him.” She offers.

“Like you dumped Doyle?” a shrug. “Do you regret breaking up with Doyle?” Rory asks.

“I don´t know.” Paris admits. “It´s probably better. We´re graduating next year after all. I don´t need any distractions.”

“Like repainting an entire apartment?” Rory pushes, because sometimes you have to be an ass in the face of such bullshit.

“That´s not a distraction!” Paris justifies “That is therapeutic.”
Rory does not believe her one bit. “If you say so.” She allows anyway. Let Paris lie to herself, if she wants to.

Rory pauses: “Hey Paris, does this hot pink look very therapeutic to you?” she asks, brandishing a particular eyesore of a color. Paris snorts – which: aim accomplished.

“Dear God. Please take it away.” She pleads, Rory giggles.

“Actually. I read somewhere that pink walls help to reduce aggression.” Comments Paris “So maybe we should use it to paint the apartment, after all.”

“To combat your anger issues?” Rory asks “I think that´s a lost cause, sorry Paris.”

Paris shrugs, tells Rory “Color is ugly anyways.”

Which it is. Honestly, whatever research Paris has read Rory doubts it: If there is one color out there that is likely to INDUCE anger issues – It´s probably that one.

“So, have you ever dated a girl?” Rory asks over dinner. They´re having Chinese, because that was the plan wasn´t it - lots and lots of Chinese food.

Paris frowns over her Lo Mein “Do I look like I ever dated a girl?”

Rory shrugs. “I don´t know; not really. What does someone who HAS dated a girl look like?”

“Probably better that me.” Judges Paris, uncharitable as always. Which so does not fly with Rory.

“Hey,” she scolds Paris. “You look fine!”

Paris just rolls her eyes. “Anyway. I´ve not dated any girls, no. You know the extend of my dating history Rory, do you remember any girls in there?”

“You could have just not told me.” Rory defends.

Another eyeroll. “Because I am so good at keeping secrets from you. Sure.”

“You do have an oversharing problem” Rory concedes, vaguely pleased at Paris lack of secret girlfriends.

“I don´t overshare!” Paris complains, which is so ridiculous as to be actively hilarious.

“You do.” Rory tells her.

“I don´t.”

“Don´t believe me?” Rory asks. “Two words: Asher Fleming.” This seems to silence Paris, at least long enough for her to elaborate “It may come as a surprise to you, but I did not actually want to know about my professor´s preferences in bed, Paris. Alas, you overshare.”

“He was experienced.” Paris grumbles, poutily “I liked that.”

Which… “So - you do like men?”

They have not talked about Paris past relationships since the whole ´into women´ thing first came up, and Rory has to admit, she is curious.

“Yeah, I guess.” Paris says. “Probably.”

Oh dear. “That does not sound like a yes, Paris.” Rory tells her, gently.

Paris sighs, put-upon at having to elaborate. “I don´t mind sleeping with men. With Jamie, or Doyle – or Asher. It´s fun! I like sex.” Which, TMI, honestly, but Rory did ask, didn´t she.

“And I like them.” Paris presses on. “I liked them as people. Doyle was one of my best friends.
“I´m just- not so sure on the whole butterflies and fireworks front… Okay?” She looks at Rory.

“You never had that?” Rory asks, finding it hard to imagine “That tingling, the anxiety, that rush of being in love?” It´s the best part, as far as she is concerned. But Rory has always been a Romantic.

A Look is the only answer she gets.

“Oh.” She breathes.

“Yeah oh.”

“I´m sorry Paris.” She offers, but it´s nowhere near enough is it. Not in the face of a confession like that.

“It´s fine.” Paris deflects. “I got over it.”

She does not look over it, but Rory does not point it out. She only complies readily when Paris tells her to “Give me some of your spring rolls if you want to make it up to me.”

“Hey mom,” Rory asks, “Have you ever been in a situation where a friend of yours was in love with you?” She didn´t want to talk about this with her mother, wanted to keep it private for Paris sake, but she finds herself unable to ignore the matter.

So here Rory is, on the phone, asking. She can practically hear the frown over the landline

“Yes Rory, I was.” Her mother tells her. “Who is this about? It´s not Logan is it.”

Sharp as always, not like the conclusion was all that hard in this case. “What did you do?” Rory inquires.

A sarcastic pause, then “Jeez, I don´t know. Let me ask him.

“Luuuke!” her mother calls.

“MOM!” Rory protests.

“Rory!”

“I was being serious.” She complains.

Lorelai smiles through the phone. “I know. I´m sorry.
“This must really be bothering you,” her mother acknowledges, “If it makes you forget about Luke of all people.”

“Mom! - I didn´t forget about Luke -”

“It´s okay Rory. I know. Want to tell me about it?”

Rory shrugs.

“You can tell me about it” Lorelai pushes, “It´s just you and me. Luke´s at work, I was pulling your leg. Sorry again.”

“I wanna tell you.” Rory admits, “I´m just not sure if I should. It´s a bit of a secret.”

“Too late for that now.” Her mother declares. “You called, now spill.”

“Fine.” Rory agrees, trying to order her thoughts into anything resembling coherence.
“You remember how Paris and Doyle broke up?”

“I remember.” Lorelai confirms. “You said it was private.”

“It really is.”

A pause. “Oh god, don´t tell me it´s Doyle!”

“It´s not Doyle, mom.” Rory is rolling her eyes.

“Thank god! That would have been awfully awkward-“

Rory does not let her finish the thought. “Mom.” She interrupts “It´s Paris.”

“Oh.” Awkward silence, then. “Ohh…”

Oh indeed. “Yeah. Oh” Rory confirms. “She basically admitted that she was in love with me all through highschool-“

“Was, or is?” asks her mom, immediately zeroing in on the crux of the matter.

“She said she got over it.” Rory tells her. “But…”

“But you don´t believe her.”

“Not really, no.”

“That´s awfully awkward. I´m sorry Ror´” Lorelai tells her. “She´s your best friend - besides Lane of course - and now you don´t know if you still want to live with her.”

“Of course, I still want to live with her.” It´s not even a question. “It´s Paris!
“And we´re repainting the apartment and everything, I´m not gonna move out over some lesbianism-induced awkwardness!”

Lorelai snorts, “Huh.” She comments.

“I just don´t know what to do about it!”

“Do you need to do something about it?” Her mom asks. “Because from what I hear, it sounds like you´ve pretty much got it covered. She isn´t pressuring you, is she?”

“No, mom.”

“Then I don´t think you need to do anything about it, honey.” She shushes Rory as she tries to protest. “No. Paris is a big girl. She´s handled her feelings well until now – she´ll keep handling them in the future.

“And if she´s not over you now, like she claims she is, then she´ll definitely get over you someday.”

“I still feel guilty, mom.” Rory confides. “I feel like I´m leading her on.”

“Oh honey, you aren´t. You don´t owe her anything. You are straight, you´re with Logan. Paris knows that won´t change…”

“Yeah, I guess.” Rory acquiesces “Thanks mom.” But she´s not feeling better, not really.

The next week, Lorelai drops by their flat in New Haven, carrying coffee and some old blankets to cover the floor while they´re painting. “Nice yellow.” She compliments, immediately going to inspect and approve of their paint- choices. “Could have gone a little darker, too.”

“Not it couldn´t” Rory explains. “The furniture is ancient and could break any time. If it does, the walls need to fit the replacement-furniture too.”

Lorelai frowns. “What replacement furniture?”

Paris lets out a snort. “Emily Gilmore´s dorm-room from hell.” She explains to Lorelai´s visible horror, “Apparently, she´s had it put into storage; we´re keeping it in mind.”

“That´s very thoughtful of you.” Rory´s mom offers, she is of course, still notably grimacing.

“Thoughtful, that´s us.” Rory rolls her eyes.

“Yeah.” Paris agrees. “We better be, given that we´ll be living in this place for over a year yet. Gotta make it worth our while.”

Unless Rory moves back in with Logan before that, but that is an option, she does not want to consider for now. She likes their shared apartment, will like it even more when it´s no longer as much of a dump. She´s looking forward to it.

“I hear you broke up with Doyle.” Lorelai, meanwhile, asks Paris, stabbing Rory in the proverbial back in the process.

“Yes.” Paris then turns on Rory. “You told your mother I broke up with Doyle?”

Rory winches. “Sorry.”

“Did you tell her why I broke up with Doyle?” Paris look could gut kittens.

“Yeah, Paris.” Lorelai tries to placate. “She mentioned.”

“Sorry.” Rory repeats. Paris snarls.

“It´s okay Paris.” Lorelai pleads. “Rory didn´t mean anything by it. She was just worried for you! You´re her best friend, she wants you to be happy.”

This seems to soothe Paris for the time being. “Apart from Lane” she mutters.

“Obviously.”

“I want you to be happy too.” Lorelai tells Paris. “Just wait and see, we´re going to find you a cute girlfriend in no time at all.”

Paris scoffs. “Sure. As if one would have me.”

“Don´t be so negative-“ Lorelai teases. „From what I´ve seen you were pretty popular with the gentlemen. Who says the Ladies are gonna be any different?”

“Women have standards.” Paris explains.

Which – no. Rory snorts. “Do they?”

“Yes.” Paris insists. “Men only care if you´re pretty, fawning and capable of faking it. Women want more.”

Now that is plain uncharitable. Rory asks. “Really? - Remember Madeline and Louise. How high were their standards?”

“I don´t want to date the lesbian equivalent of Madeline and Louise, obviously.”

Lorelai just grins. “Now who´s got high standards.”

“God this is weird.” Paris complains.

“What is weird?” asks Rory, even if she can guess.

“This.” Paris gesticulates, confirming her suspicions. “Acknowledging it. It´s not like I´ve ever really talked about it before. To anyone.”

Which just won´t do. Rory punches her shoulder. “Get used to it.”

“Yeah.” Lorelai agrees. “You´ve been promoted to be our token gay friend. We support you. And we´re not going to stop acknowledging it anytime soon.”

“Wasn´t Michel our token gay friend?” Rory asks her mom, giving Paris some time to recover.

Lorelai grins. „He´s been replaced. Was bisexual anyway. Wait;“ she turns to Paris “Are you bisexual?”

“Probably not” Paris shrugs.

“See. Token gay friend.” She tells Rory, happily taking Paris participation for approval. “We´ll just have to find you a girlfriend, then you´ll be all set.”

Paris rolls her eyes. “Thanks for being …not weird about this. Not weirder than usual anyways.”

“Don´t worry about it.” Lorelai assures her. “You´re basically the second daughter I never had! Well, third – after Lane. Family anyways.”

“Apropos, how is Lane doing?” Rory asks.

“Back with Zack” her mother explains. “Seems like they´re getting married.”

“Really.” Paris comments, visibly dubious. “I always thought she deserved better.”

It seems Lorelai does not agree with her assessment: “Don´t be mean to Zack. He does have his moments.” She defends. Rory is keeping out of this – although she does secretly agree with Paris.

“Thinking about it, it´s a pity though.” Lorelai goes on to muse. “Lane could have made for an excellent girlfriend for Paris.”

Rory rolls her eyes “I really don´t think Lane is into girls, mom.”

“Really?” Lorelai asks, “are you sure?”

“Lane and I lived together Freshman Year.” Paris throws in. “Nice thought, but THAT would not work long time.”

“Yeah.” Rory agrees “Paris is too high maintenance for Lane.”

“I thought I was too high maintenance for you?” Paris asks, and God – right – she did say that.

“Maybe you´re just high maintenance in general.” She acknowledges. “But I think that I´m doing just fine.”

“Do you like it?” Paris asks, taking in their freshly done living room and quickly babbling on: “I like it,” she says “It´s way brighter than before.”

The living room walls are yellow, the entrance area is a nice grassy green, and the pale cream of doorframes and windows rounds it all out. Overall, they did an excellent job.

“Me too.” Rory agrees. “The meltdown closet was a nice touch.”

Paris grins. “I really do think so too.” She continues, casually slinging an arm up over Rory´s shoulder “You know, I honestly think that the landlord should pay us for this. I bet we improved the value of the property a great deal. Greedy capitalist can probably squeeze a lot more rent out of the next guy.”

“The landlord won´t pay us.” Rory laughs. “If we´re particularly unlucky he´ll even sue us over the pink closet.” Because it IS bubble-gum pink - and it looks atrocious. But at least it´s dispelling aggression. Allegedly.

“Well- there´s no accounting for taste.” She decides.

Paris nods. “Except ours. Our taste it is clearly superior.”

“Agreed.” Rory beams. “Dinner?”

“You´ve read my mind.” She waves their menu-collection.

“Indian?” She suggests. It is so easy to communicate with Paris sometimes. Rory does not understand how most people find her difficult. (A lie – she knows EXACTLY why.) “The place with the cute delivery guy?” she asks.

A look. Right – probably lesbian.

“The place with the objectively good-looking delivery guy?” Rory adjusts her question to Paris delight.

“Fine.” She agrees, slumping onto the couch. “Their Palak Paneer is the best anyway.”

“I think I´m going to break up with Logan.” Rory announces.

Paris looks up from her book. “Why? Not that I am not in favor of you dumping him – I very much am - but why now? Did he do something?”

“Something else you mean.” Besides fucking several other women while they were on a break and not telling her about it even when she was walking into a room with them.

She was trying to be reasonable, trying to see it from his point of view. “No, he didn´t do anything.” Rory admitted. “But I´m still angry.at him.” Because frankly: What a dick move! Objectively speaking.

Paris obviously does not get what the problem is. “And?” she asks, waiting for Rory to elaborate.

And? “That´s it. That´s the problem.”

“The problem is that he didn´t do anything?” Paris eyebrows raise in disbelief.

“No. The problem is that I´m still angry!” she explains.

“You do know that you have every right for that, right?” Paris probes “He acted like an ass,” she tells Rory “A big one.”

“Yes I do.” Rory despairs. “And yes, he did. But… Should I not want to forgive him?”

Paris shrugs. “How so?” Then “You do know that I am notoriously unforgiving, you really are asking the wrong person here.”

“No, I really am asking the right person.” Rory tells her. “Because you are vindictive as fuck, Paris. And I´ve forgiven you plenty of times.

“When you got pissed over the editorship and KICKED ME OUT – I forgave you, we made up. I´m not mad anymore. When Francie tried to turn us against each other, and you beat me up with a fencing-sword – I forgave you, we made up! Even the Tristin mess in sophomore year: We made up. And I´m not mad anymore; About any of that!”

“God that Tristin shit was awful.” Paris hangs her head, despairing of her younger self; both of their younger selves.

“Yes, it was. It was awful.” Rory agrees. “But we made up! You forgave me, I forgave you. It´s over; We´re fine.”

And that is heart of the matter isn´t it. “Because Logan was right, technically. Since he thought that we were broken up at the time. I should forgive him – logically speaking; I should want to make up.”

“And I don’t. Want to make up, that is.” Rory laments, more to herself than to Paris, who is notoriously unforgiving, after all. “And I don´t think that it says anything good about me, and my and Logan´s relationship, that I don´t want to make up.”

“You could work on it.“ Paris comments. “If that´s what you want. You don´t have to break up, you know?”

Rory laughs. “But I worked on it. We both worked on it already. Quite a lot, actually. If we hadn´t worked on it, Logan and I, we never would have gotten this far!
“I´m tired of working on it.” she admits to Paris and to herself. “I think I want to break up with him.” She decides, repeating it to herself like a new-years resolution.

“I AM going to break up with him.”

Paris gifts her a smile “Well then…” she says, already returning to her book. “Congratulations on the sanity, I guess.”

So far in her life, Rory has never really been the one to end a relationship - not that she had had all that many. Dean had been the one to leave her, both times, and Jess, leaving as he had, Jess had broken her heart. Even if technically, it had been Rory who´d finally called it quits.

Well with Logan, it´s definitely Rory who´s ending things and if she had not expected it to get messy, she really should have. She probably should have done it in private, too.

There was shouting, by both of them, publicly, because of course it was. And even now, when it´s over and Rory should be relieved that it´s done, all she can think about is how everyone must be judging her while she ducks through the stares.

And falls straight into the arms of a familiar figure. “Hey Rory.” Doyle greets her. “Long time no see.”

“No kidding,” she tells him, only belatedly adding “It´s good to see you too.”

She walks with him, follows him really, to the nearest coffee booth where he resupplies her addiction. “I guess you heard all that.” She offers, in a weird almost-reversal of the night that had started it all; settling down on a bench next to him.

He smiles tiredly, admitting “It was pretty hard to miss.”

“A public breakup –“ Rory shakes her head. “I should have known better.”

”If it is any comfort to you” Doyle offers “private breakups aren´t all that good either.”

She laughs. Because she did like Doyle, liked being around him. Liked his mean humor. Most people just overlooked Rory´s mean side, even Paris did it sometimes, but Doyle? Never.

“How are you doing?” he asks. “apart from the-“ he indicates the whole shouting mess that he witnessed.

“Fine, for the most part.” She tells him. “You?”

“As well as can be. I moved in with a friend, so at least that is something. Our place is even marginally decent.”

“I´m glad.” Rory admits. “Although our apartment is much improved too, you really should see it! We repainted the whole thing.”

“Homemaking, huh.” He regards her. “Guess if anyone had to become the new Mrs. Paris Geller, I should be glad it was you.”

Rory rolls her eyes “If anything, she´s the new Mrs. Rory Gilmore.” She tells him. Mostly because of the relative inequality of their current incomes, but also because her grandparents would rather disinherit her than allow her to take the name of any partner.

Then the implications catch up with her. She turns to look at him, assures “We´re not together, Paris and I.”

Doyle just smiles, sadly “It´s okay. Please don´t break her heart.”

The thing is, that Doyle isn´t the first to imply that Rory and Paris might work as a couple. Because implying they might BE a couple – provably false; but implying they might work, it turns out, manages to drive Rory insane.

She´s not thought about dating women before. Why should she have, she´d always been around guys! Very attractive, datable guys... So, this Paris-situation throws a wrench into that track-record.

And she is thinking about it. She might even have made a spreadsheet or two, with pros and cons of dating Paris Geller.

The pro side of the spreadsheet in question contains more points than Rory would want to admit under anything short of duress. She also has the sneaking suspicion that most people would list the random rhinestone-ysation via the arts-and-crafts table of shared household items as a contra, not a pro. But she digresses.

She´s probably driving herself crazy over nothing. Paris is over her! She´d said so herself. She will find a nice girlfriend and Rory will never have to examine if this is her lesbian-experimentation phase come early, or if it could be something more permanent. And isn´t that a terrifying though.

Paris is her best friend. Nothing is going to change.

So, Paris is sitting on the bed in front of her, looking up with a resignation so familiar, Rory is tempted to call deja-vu.

She´s gotten dressed already, changed into the outfit Rory picked out for her. Because it shows of her boobs and because Paris deserves nice things. Deserves nicer things than work, self-depreciation and a wallowing roommate.

So, Paris is going to go out, Rory decided. After all, how will she possibly meet the woman of her dreams if she does not go out; doesn´t put herself out there. Paris deserves this. Even if she has to be convinced of it first.

“I still don´t think that this is a good idea.” She repeats for the third time in ten minutes, but Rory is not having it, no siree.

“It totally is.” She leans down, brush of her eyeshadow in hand. Because Paris has to look awesome, because women have standards (or so Rory has heard.)

“You´re going to go out. And you´re going to meet people and have and amazing time, and you are going to get a whole bunch of phone-numbers, because you are going to look irresistible.”

Paris scoffs. “I mean it.” Rory insists. “You´re gonna be catnip for lesbians, just wait and see.”

“And what if I´m bad at it?” She pushes, as Rory is fixing her hair. Paris hair is soft, blond and long and it smells of vanilla. Rory wants to reassure her - They really have been here before, haven´t they.

“Nobody is bad at flirting. Especially not you. You´ve managed just fine until now.”

“I am way too intense, don´t even try to deny it.”

“I won´t” Rory tells her, indulgent. “It´s one of your best qualities, after all.” She meets Paris eyes, and damn, that look on her face…

“You going to tell me to trust my gut anytime soon?” Paris asks. You´ll know if it feels right, Rory had told her, all those years ago. And Paris had charged on ahead, heedless.
She´s changed since then, because she isn´t charging ahead, now. Not out of the door at least.
She reaches for Rory.

“Please tell me if this feels right.” She whispers, and then she kisses Rory. Oh.

They´ve kissed before, spring break of freshman year, but this kiss is nothing like that. It´s sweet and shy, as though Paris expects her to push her away. Rory doesn´t, doesn´t even think of it – she reciprocates.

“Oh.” Breathes Paris when they finally pull free.

Rory smiles. “Yeah oh.”

“That was…”

“A kiss?” Rory suggests earning herself a glare, a very enjoyable kiss.

“Yeah.” Paris´ cheeks are burning “I kissed you.”

“You did.” Rory drops down, to sit beside her. “I liked it,” she confides. “The kiss. I like you, too - a great deal actually.” Because it is true, she does like Paris.

“Like me like…”

“I think so.” Rory admits. “I´d never thought about it before, but recently… I like you.”

“So,” Paris asks, “What are we going to do about it?”

She smiles “Right now? Go out. I did NOT dress you up for nothing.” Paris laughs. “But first," Rory grabs her by the waist, pulling her close "Come and kiss me again. I hear third time´s the charm.”